Dystopia
by FluffyFriz
Summary: A small Zombie fic based off of conanners of Tumblr's idea. Basically, it takes place in an alternate universe where Billy is still alive, but a zombie apocalypse has befallen the world. It follows Spencer, a survivor who had to learn a lot of new tricks in order to best the undead as he slowly watches his best friend change.
1. Chapter 1

I wrote a zombie small fic it kinda stinks though. Credit to conanners for the idea!

"Hey", Spencer heard the voice, as he looked around for a possible source. He was low on ammo and weary as anything from an attack he had experienced not an hour ago. The figure was unclear when he had turned around, still blurry in the distance. He squinted, trying to identify them, and had his handgun at the ready. He was waving; a strange action, considering the situation.

Spencer walked towards the figure slowly and cautiously, still holding his handgun at the ready. He was beginning to see him more clearly as they were getting close. He was becoming a bit more familiar looking now, but…he seemed to have some injuries now that he could see him better.

"Hey, Spencer," the man called once more. The voice was familiar yet not at the same time. The figure was now walking faster towards the boy, enthusiastically for some unknown reason. It had been a while since somebody seemed happy to see him in a way other than for the reason of seeing him as lunch. Spencer's steps were slow, almost opposite of the excited ones the man was taking.

"How do you know my name," Spencer asked loudly, trying his best to sound confident. It had been days since he had had someone else other than himself to talk to. He noticed the white of what he assumed to be a grin on the man's face, as he came closer. He appeared to be bloodied up slightly, he also noticed, red on his jacket in places but most clearly on his face. Spencer assumed he probably looked about as bad, or maybe even worse.

"It's me," the voice replied, "Your cousin. Billy, remember?" Now that they were close

enough to one another, Spencer had noticed something else about Billy. There was something off about him.

Oh no. Oh no no.

Now that Spencer was close enough he noticed it. The little problem with this picture.

At this distance Spencer could see the abnormality of Billy's appearance. That red on his face…that looked only like blood in the distance. It wasn't. It was instead that his skin was actually rotting off there, a white seemed to be clear through the skin. His teeth. His face wasn't just cut, it was rotting. He was a zombie.

Spencer now held up his gun, eyes widening in sudden realization. He should have known that this was too good to be true; nothing good ever happens in this new distopia that was his world.

Billy found it to be unexpected; As Spencer grabbed the ill-prepared taller man, holding his gun now. A small startled sound came from Billy's throat, as he struggled a bit in Spencer's grip,

"…Tell me why I shouldn't just kill you," Spencer asked, now cocking the gun in all seriousness, "…like all those other bastards."Spencer had him in a lock, as he quickly rose the gun to the man's head in warning, heart going a mile a minute.

"Wha-"

"Tell me why I shouldn't just kill you right now ," Spencer screamed, again, louder now.

Billy held up his hands in a sign of surrender, calmer than he should probably be, but still phased by the action.

"I'm not eating you, am I," he said loudly, not fighting Spencer's grip, "That's a reason!"

Spencer was shaking now. That was true, why wasn't he trying to eat him? Fear overtook any possible clear thoughts though.

"You will," Spencer hissed, "They all do! Those…sick things!" frowned as he felt the shaking of the younger boy.

Feeling no possibility of simply talking Spencer out of it, Billy swiftly escaped from the boy's grasp and to Spencer's astonishment had actually managed to knock the gun out of his hands, now hitting the ground with a loud clink.

Spencer nearly had a heart attack.

This was it, he would be eaten by his cousin.

When Spencer was looking at Billy he was still holding up his hands though, a 'I mean no harm' pose clear. Why wasn't he trying anything? It was clear that he was infected, and probably had been for more than enough time.

"Hey man, I'm cool," Billy replied, smiling sadly, "It's been weeks since…yeah, and I haven't eaten anything! Can't be a zombie if I haven't eaten anything."

Spencer frowned, as he thought about this for a minute."Anything…at all," he asked quietly. Spencer looked down at his gun, but back to Billy. This wasn't making any sense to him.

Billy laughed awkwardly at that, "Well, yeah, I haven't."

There was silence. Spencer felt his hands ball into fists, his teeth clench. Any possible hope of him finding someone else who wasn't infected that he might have had a second ago vanished. He actually felt himself trembling now. "…You dumb asshole…", he whispered quietly, barely audible words, "that means your body is already dead. Humans eat food, remember? Or is that not clear to you…?!"

Spencer felt tears well up in his eyes, his body betraying him as he began to actually cry. It had been days since he last cried, he hadn't even when…

"I guess…that makes sense," Billy's tone had knocked him out of his stupor, as he spoke,"That is off, now that you mention it."

Spencer wiped his eyes with a free hand, "…You seem to be turning slower than everyone else," he said quietly.

Billy looked down at himself, "I guess your right again," he said, suddenly brightening up.

Something still wasn't making very much sense, though. Spencer looked over the man. It wasn't adding up. "…Weeks, though?" he asked. If it had been weeks, wasn't he supposed to look a lot worse, heck, even a bit more..agressive? Anything?

"Yeah…", Billy replied, "last time I was attacked and let alone seen a zombie was two and a half weeks ago…I sorta figured they weren't coming after me since…well, got bitten and all. When nothing happened to me, I didn't know what to think. I guess you're right though, I must be infected after all."

"You seem to actually be turning slower than everyone else is," Spencer said calmly, still looking over the man with intrigue, "It usually only takes a few hours before…"

"…I guess you're right again," Billy interrupted, a grin spreading on his face, "Hey! I guess they call you 'Wright' for a reason, huh?" He was smiling a strange smile at his own joke, torn flesh on his skin showing more teeth than you should normally see.

Spencer rolled his eyes, unamused, "Yeah, because it's my last name, tool kit," he replied. He seriously couldn't believe how Billy went from being sad to happy in a minute flat.

The taller man was now close enough to lean against Spencer, "You're not exactly the type to laugh, are you," he asked, grin still plastered on his face.

Spencer frowned lightly, allowing him to lean against him. He wasn't exactly making it easy to hate him now was he? "Believe me, before all of this I was," he replied, "…Hasn't been much to laugh about now days."

Spencer picked up his gun with that, putting it away when no threat seemed to come from the infected man. He needed to keep his ammo for actual danger, something Billy didn't seem to be at the moment.

Regardless, he reminded himself that even if he wasn't aggressive now, he might turn on him any second. He kept his hand close to his gun, as they now walked down the path together, Billy telling him he had a camp nearby. Keeping him close might be good for something after all.

Spencer wouldn't get attached. In this changed world friends weren't real.


	2. Chapter 2

They walked the empty path, doubt lingering on Spencer's mind and joy on Billy's. He seemed to feel more and more comfortable as he headed towards this direction; the direction of his makeshift two room home , his oasis in the middle of nowhere.

It made him appreciate the little things, having a home, even if it was a rough thing to compare to his old house. The one that got taken over, hoarded by them. Nope, there was no going back there.

When his home was on the horizon, he ran with energy that surprised an exhausted Spencer. Did this guy ever get tired? He was beginning to think he seriously didn't, as he walked a bit quicker himself. He was a bit worried when the man ducked into the tent, and he held his hand near his weapon out of instinct. He wasn't sure if this wasn't a trap or not, he was one of them, even if he was his family there was risks. It's hardly believable that a random family member just shows up and not want at least something.

When he pops his head back out he's grinning widely, but looks down at the hand spencer has on his pistol and frowns a bit. He decides to ignore that and comes out anyway, thin arms wrapped around what appears to be a few cans of food. Spencer immediately drops his hands to his sides to just stare. He only then feels just how starving he is.

"I have some presents for you, bro," Billy chimes, coming out entirely. He chuckles at the look on the boys thin face, bringing the food up further in a peace offering. Spencer just sort of looks down and then back at Billy, as if asking if its alright for him to take one.

"Bro, it's fine!" Billy says loudly and almost as if he could read his mind, "I know you're hungry, just have some!"

"...Why do you have all of these?" Spencer asks, taking one with repressed vigour. "I mean, why...do you need them?"

Billy looks down at the question, his face twisting into hurt as if he had just been stabbed in the heart,"...I sorta kept them around just in case I ever got hungry...," he replied shortly, "turns out I never did."

Spencer actually feels really bad for asking after that. He looks down at all the food and then at the man in front of him. He's skinny, tiny even, and he can't believe he just noticed how small he was now.

Almost all bones.

Nobody gets that skinny except anorexics or the dead. His large and baggy sweater only covered so much.

"...Did you at least try to eat some?" Spencer asks, pulling out his army knife and touching it to a lid, "I mean...maybe if you tried anyway-"

"Yeah man, I tried and tried to eat some stuff", he shrugs, "but it all just...came up I guess." He looked to be a bit haunted by the memory, so Spencer didn't press on after that.

It wasn't long after the two of them had went inside the house that the effort came with reward; the lid opened and the can with it. The sweet smell of peaches was like a drug and was all Spencer could smell as it wafted in the room now. He didn't even have the patience to ask for a spoon in that moment, opting to tilt the can and just drink.

Billy sort of just stared as he ate, the look one of curiosity. It left Spencer wondering if he even remembered what eating had been like or if the action became a lost art to the older man. It was getting a bit awkward after the first minute and even more so into the second minute.

He decided to stop for a second, wiping away some of the sweet liquid that was beginning to drool down his chin as he placed it onto the table surface.

"What?" Spencer asked, mildly annoyed with Billy. Billy sat back, knocked out of his stare and grinning now instead. Always with that torn cheek grin, it was strangely reassuring regardless.

"Nothing," Billy replied lightly, "I just like to watch you eat." He laughed a bit and went into a bit of a cough. Spencer slowed himself down, gaining control over his pace to avoid choking. He smiled at Billy; the first heartfelt smile he had made in a long time. If it made his cousin happy he would let him watch. He owed him at least that weird request. He probably would have died in a few days if he hadn't come here.

Days went by and the two became fast friends. They didn't stray far from the camp if they could help it; supplies were quite plentiful when only one person needed to eat. Everyday would, no matter how harsh, end with the two boys sitting at their makeshift table; Spencer eating while Billy just watched or told stories of times in his life before all of this.

He seemed to remember a lot more about the past then Spencer did, and it only made the young boy thirst for more. What Spencer clung to of the past was minimal details, but Billy was able to reminisce for what seemed to be about anything and everything. He was a very good listener, and he a very good story teller; there wasn't a better team in their eyes.

There was always that sinking, unsettling feeling that lingered with the two, however. They brushed it off, tried to push it aside, but the fact that Billy was only getting sicker and sicker as the days passed by was always evident. It was a waiting game, a ticking time-bomb just waiting to go off that neither could stop no matter how much they wanted this thing they had to last.

He would cough up blood sometimes, and the frown he made when he seen all of that blood come up ate away at the boy every time. He only got somehow thinner as the days went by and a enigmatic paleness slowly clouded his eyes, an icy blue replacing a once deep blue iris. The tear in his cheek had spread and turned a sickly colour, even his skin was becoming less and vibrant, less human

Some days were worse than others for Billy.

It was this day that was one of them.

He wasn't up in the morning like he usually would be that day. Spencer had woken up to low sounds from the room in the back; Billy's room, as well as the only thing deemed off limits. He was always wondering what he had been protecting back there all this time, but he never asked questions he wasn't sure he would like to hear the answer to. He only went in there at night time anyway.

Spencer wasn't a very greedy person anymore. He gave the man space when he wanted it, and never even took a peek inside his bedroom. As it was the sounds only increased as he waited at his seat, waited for the older to come out and grin that grin of his. For the older to tell him to eat, make him eat at least something even if the boy denied. To tell him where they would go off to today, what fun you can find even in this world.

He never came out. It was another hour and Spencer had yet to see him. The thought that something could possibly be wrong ate away at him.

It was probably not a smart idea, in fact, Billy had told him that if he was to ever act out of place, or strangely, that Spencer was to face the other way or simply take his life to his convenience. He gladly would have a few days back but somehow his infected cousin had grown more and more on him. He seemed only to act like any normal human; aside from minor strangeness. Let it be known that Spencer Wright would never directly kill a person with an ounce of humanity.

That day, Spencer did not listen to Billy.

Curiosity was killing him and the boy opted to actually see what really was in Billy's room, even if it was to go against the rules the older had assigned. He simply cared more about Billy than about his own safety.

The door creaked too loudly as he slowly opened it. The sound came with it second thoughts of actually doing this, made him wonder if this really was the best idea.

Oh well. The door is open might as well look around and stop clenching your eyes shut as if the sun is a centimetre away from your corneas.

He was surprised by what he seen, but didn't expect this to be what was behind the doors. First of all there was a lot of blood, dry and fresh alike. He could just smell the strong scent of the stuff, making him lightheaded at first. He had been about to raise a hand to his nose. It was an absolute mess and filled with random belongings he assumed Billy had picked up along the way.

"Spencer...?" he nearly jumped a foot at the sound. Oh man, he was caught now, caught red handed. He looked around the room to try and find the older but couldn't get past the reddened bandages, the old pictures that lay askew, and the huge stack of canned foods to the wall. "Spencer... issat you?"

"Billy...", he called lightly, walking around slowly and carefully not to step on anything(or in anything). It was about halfway across the room and a particularly sick cough when he noticed the man against the wall. "Billy... why did you chain yourself up?"

"It's a bad day Spence," he slurred, "It's a bad day, worst one yet...it hurts...hurts really bad and...and you smell so good..."

Spencer gave a frown, "I...smell good?"

"Spencer, get out..." he moaned with forced loudness, "I don't trust myself you gotta get out...I told you not to ever come in here, bro. I told you for a reason."

Spencer didn't listen to his words, he only walked closer now. At the distance he could see how bad he really looked.

"Billy you gotta stop doing this to yourself",he spoke calmly, now only a foot away, "your alright, your going to be alright..."

"No no no no no no Spence it hurts, it hurts a lot...please..."

"Billy, you haven't done anything yet," he crouched down, noticing clenched shut eyes on his pale face, "what makes you think you will?"

There was no response. Spencer reached for the chain around Billy's hand, frowning at the marks they caused his wrists to have.

Billy's eyes shot open when he heard the click of the lock opening, and was in shock to see it was Spencer who was the cause. Spencer looked at that shock and only smiled.

"C'mon," he whispered, unlocking the second wrist, "you're staying home today. I'm gonna help you get through this, make you feel all better."

He knew Billy would have to eat something eventually; that it was either find him some food or become his food.

He tried again, he tried to eat on one of his better days. Somehow he had been convinced by the boy to try. Spencer had been there to help him through the whole thing. Billy rose a spoonful of peanut butter to his lips, gagging lightly but still with persistence. Even his favourite food of the past tasted like ash and vomit on his tongue. They had tried an array of foods, but peanut butter was the only thing that ever stayed down. He still was hungry but it was a little satisfying.

It made the bad days a little better.

Eventually even that had failed to work. The force he had to put into not just spitting it out became overwhelming.

He needed more than just this.

Again, the urge to eat...something else came back. His eyes went more dreary and he would go into a sort of trance at times. He would look at Spencer that way sometimes, but he didn't let himself try anything. He would rather die than try anything.

Spencer hated to see him like that. He knew he had to do something about it.

Spencer sat at the table, the usual place, worrying about the older. He wouldn't come out again, he assumed it was only another bad day for the man. He heard gagging and familiar guttural sounds that echoed to even the main room. Suddenly he wasn't so hungry anymore.

He gains a confidence, one he doesn't realize he even has. He storms into the room, directly to where he knows Billy is keeping himself. He grabs his hand in his, the older man following the grip wordlessly but with a small pain-filled groan. He drags him all the way to the spot he usually sits, ignoring the stare he's getting as he grabs an axe usually used just for firewood.

"We're going out today," Spencer speaks forcefully.

"Wha-"

"We're getting you something to eat Billy." He has to drag the man out the door, he's begging him not to, telling him he doesn't want to come, that he doesn't want to eat. Over and over he begs; he knows it can only end badly.

When Spencer decides to just bring the food to him, he's too worried for the boy's safety not to follow him. In no time at all they're about a mile away, spotting a wayward man walking alone down the path. Spencer tells Billy to hide, to let him 'handle this'. He wants to protest, but he's just so tired, so worn. He just trusts Spencer too much to believe he's going to actually go through with anything, to do something wrong. He lays back for a while, doesn't move. It's only when he hears a loud thump, Spencer screaming, that he leaves his spot.

When he sees him he's repeating how he 'did it for you' and asking 'are you proud of me?' like a person gone mad. Billy looks down at the bloodied body and he's begging him not to eat it, telling him he didn't want this to ever happen. Spencer tells him he has to, that it's the only way he can stop getting so sick. He tells him he's 'going to have to stop trying to be something we both want you to be'.

It made him hate himself when the taste felt right on his tongue, when he had taken a bite and it went down, stayed down. He sobbed as he ate, the only thing he could feel was Spencer's hand rubbing circles on his back. He kept telling him that it was going to be okay.

He tried so hard to believe him.

Spencer let out loud cries as he brought the axe down, down, over and over. He was screaming; in hysterics and loud. If it had been a different situation, Billy would probably tell he boy to keep it down in fear of attracting more undead. But it was this situation that stopped the older man from doing so. He watched quietly; he would have flinched from such a sight not a few weeks ago. Now... He let the blood of the body land onto his clothes with each time Spencer brought down the weapon. He wasn't really thinking clearly or at all as he watched. He was just sort of blank.

He felt disgusted by himself when he began to feel hunger at the sight; above all else. He knew that the boy was doing this immoral action for his sake but it still made him feel sick to what was left of his stomach.

Spencer was winding down and tiring out. He was covered head to toe in red now, as he breathed heavily and out of breath. He actually threw aside the bloody axe onto the ground, collapsing next to it giving up completely. His eyes had been wide with tears streaming down throughout the whole event. His face was still frozen like that, staring at his handiwork. It never got easier.

He knew it would be an often occurring task; killing them, so he had been trying to gain the ability to do so for some time. It didn't stop him from feeling bad though; when he thought of how billy wasn't much different he could only imagine the thoughts billy had running through his head as he watched him tear through zombie flesh.

That he would do the same to him if he ever crossed the line; lost his mind. All of that sense of disgust for bloodied, gruesome sights had instead turned to mild annoyance for the adult. He would stare with disinterest and a hunger in his quickly paling eyes; his body not letting him cry anymore.

Tears weren't something that happened for him. Instead; he would often go into hysterical weeps, loud cries that started normally but transformed into something that was almost -in a sense-mourning his missing ability to cry any more. He hated himself now; the once egotistical man had turned into one of a self-hating nature. He had always been a crybaby; it was part of being the drama queen that he tended to be. But now...it wasn't even comparable to that. He was in pain; actually hurting.


End file.
